Healing
by i.paint.the.sky
Summary: After the end of the series, Vash leaves Knives in the care of a mysterious young woman. Epilogue now added.  COMPLETE.
1. Prologue

Flower Child  
  
(A/N Well, I finally get to start this fiction. And, to start off, I would just like to say that I am, at least according to my friend, a rarity among fan fiction goers, as I pop from book to television and, now, to anime. I write and read primarily for Harry Potter right now, though I have a whole series of fics for the, prepare to gasp, soap opera Passions. And now I'm here, writing about Trigun. How odd?  
  
Anyways, this fic is set after the series ended, opening with Vash carrying Knives off.  
  
Oh yeah, and I'd like to officially dedicate this story to neekabe. Without her, I wouldn't even know what Trigun is, let alone be writing fan fiction about it. Or making anime music videos, but that's another story)  
  
Prologue  
  
Vash the Stampede wandered through the ruins, his brother a forgotten weight on his shoulders. Even Knives was unimportant, compared to this tragedy. The city of July.  
  
Ever since meeting Elizabeth so many months ago, Vash had been reliving the horror of that day. And here he was, once again walking amid the rubble. Images flew through his head: the sky, a swirling sea of red; the little girl, a young Elizabeth, wandering alone towards him in the dust; and Knives, face filled with shock as his brother shot at him for the second time.  
  
And now Vash had done it again, covering Knives' body with bullet holes. Would it ever end? Would Knives ever see humanity as more than a lesser race to be exterminated? He didn't know. But he hoped so. How two brothers, raised together, could be so different was beyond him. But it wasn't too late, for either of them. Or so Vash hoped.  
  
Finally the "Humanoid Typhoon" was able to leave the wreckage of the once great city behind him, heading west, towards the sun and his destination. A small house, beyond where the city outskirts had once stood. Many years ago, this area had been a small, but fertile farm. Now it was a just an extension of the desert. Vash passed the small well, which had once been filled to the brim. It had run dry. A nearby pump was now necessary to force water, the essence of life, up from the bowels of the earth. It bore the signs of age and hard labour.  
  
A young woman stood at the door of the house, which was as run-down as the rest of the property. Her golden eyes were watchful as Vash drew closer. He nodded his head in a greeting. She promptly returned the gesture and motioned for him to come inside.  
  
Vash carried Knives over to a couch, one of the only useable pieces of furniture in the house.  
  
"This is my brother, Knives. I've told you about him. He's been shot and needs a safe place to rest and recuperate. But, well you know me. I never stay in a place that long, if I can help it. Also, I have to go meet up with some friends of mine. So, I know it's a lot to ask, but Ophelia could you look after him. Just for awhile. I think you would be good for him."  
  
Ophelia looked down at the unconscious man, taking the sight of him in. Then her eyes raised and met Vash's. As they did, he suddenly had the feeling that those eyes were strangely familiar, but not as hers.  
  
This thought was driven from his mind as the woman's head moved in a nod, agreeing to take on the heavy task of caring for Knives and, hopefully, helping him learn the wonder that is humanity.  
  
(A/N So, what do you guys think? A bit melodramatic, I know. But overall, I'm happy. And, please, remember this: to read is human, to review divine.) 


	2. Anger

Anger  
  
Knives' eyes opened, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. He blinked a few times, trying to remember what had happened.  
  
Vash. Vash had shot him, a pattern of behaviour that, despite its apparent regularity, was still rather shocking. That his own brother could cause such pain was unfathomable. Where was Vash now? Where was he, for that matter?  
  
He pulled his body off the tattered and lumpy couch, ignoring the pain that shot through him as he did so. It was still hard, but pain had become a part of his existence, forcing Knives to learn how to deal with it.  
  
The rest of the room was a mess of broken chairs and tables, all covered in a heavy coat of dust. The window behind his head was smashed, the break allowing sunlight to come through the glass, opaque with grim. A faded rug lay under his feat, covered in mud and stains. Where was he?  
  
It was a struggle, but he was finally able to pull himself to his feet. He took a few difficult steps, finally managing to achieve a steady standing position.  
  
At just that moment, the door on the other side of the room opened and in walked a young woman. A human.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" Knives snarled at her.  
  
The girl looked at him, and smiled. Then she turned away, heading off towards another room. This ignorance of himself infuriated Knives. Even worse was the fact that, in his current condition, he was unable to follow her.  
  
She returned momentarily, holding a glass of water which she held out to him. Knives knocked it out of her grasp.  
  
"I don't want your water, human," he yelled, reaching out and grabbing her roughly. "I want to know where I am. I want to know who you are. Tell me!"  
  
His anger only grew when no response came. Finding energy in his rage, Knives tossed the girl onto the ground with the shards of glass. He then reached for his gun, surprised to notice he still had it. He pulled it out and pointed it at the infuriating human.  
  
"Speak to me. Speak, or I'll kill you."  
  
Still no words came from her mouth. Knives looked down at her in contempt and then found himself staring into brilliant golden eyes. Eyes that looked back up at him with perfect patience. There was not one shred of fear in her gaze. She merely watched him, waiting for him to act.  
  
"Do you talk?" he asked her, a shade of curiosity encroaching on his fury.  
  
Her smile returned as the girl nodded her assent.  
  
"Well, that's just lovely. Vash isn't here, is he?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"That figures. Brotherly love in action. Not only did he put me in this horrid state in the first place, but he's gone and abandoned me with a mute idiot who apparently has a death wish. Do you even have a name, human?"  
  
She nodded and stood up, knocking into Knives' gun as she did. Shocked again by her lack of concern about the weapon, he put it back in its holster.  
  
When she came back, the girl had another glass of water and a small piece of paper. Ignoring the cup, he took the paper from her. On it is said one word: Ophelia.  
  
"So, that's you name? Ophelia?"  
  
Once again, she nodded. And once again she held out the water. This time Knives took it, drinking the refreshment in one long gulp.  
  
He found that his anger had finally begun to dissipate. The adrenaline rush began to fade, as his body began to fail on him again. Pain coursed through him. Soon he had collapsed back on the couch; his eye closed trying to shut out this unwanted reality.  
  
Suddenly he felt a soft touch run over his body, soothing him. His eyes opened again to see the girl rubbing some sort of balm over him, while tending to his wounds.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
She raised her eyebrows at him in surprise.  
  
"I almost killed you less than five minutes ago. How can you be taking care of me now?"  
  
Ophelia just smiled.  
  
(A/N Another short chapter. Hope you liked it. Please let me know. Reviews are some of the nicest things an author can receive. Even if you think that I should add something, or feel that my Knives is terribly OOC. These are things that will make this story better. And it's always encouraging to know that someone out there is actually reading these words.) 


	3. Questions

Questions  
  
Over the next few days, Knives slowly recovered. And drank lots of water. This girl somehow knew that, though his body could digest food, it was not necessary for his survival. All he needed was the basic H20. Which Ophelia provided plenty of, though from where he truly didn't know. This whole place seemed to be one giant dust bowl, barren and dead.  
  
He barely saw the human throughout the day, except when she refilled his glass. He may catch a glimpse of her through a doorway, sometimes she even passed through the room. But even though she never seemed to be there, somehow her presence seemed to radiate from every part of this hovel. And, though he would never admit it, Knives found it to be quite a calming influence. The anger he had felt upon awaking the first time was now muted, though at times it did threaten to boil over again, mostly when he thought of Vash. Even now the thought of his brother led to the immediate reaction of clenched fists.  
  
He had been in this house for about a week when he finally tired of sitting around, waiting to "get better". He had had enough of that the last time Vash had shot him. And thus he forced himself off the pathetic excuse for a couch and staggered out of the room.  
  
He found himself in an empty room that might pass for a kitchen, in a different time. Right now it was dust covered like every other part of the house, with only a pitifully meagre amount of food. Perhaps he was merely getting water because the girl just didn't want to part with any of her own provisions, rather than her actually understanding his physiology.  
  
Knives also came across the first clean window he had seen since he arrived, and through it he could see Ophelia carrying a bucket, walking towards what appeared to be some sort of stick standing upright in the ground.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Ophelia looked back at him when he spoke, but didn't seem surprised at all to see him. She moved beside the odd stick thing, which he could see now was actually a metal post, and with one hand held the bucket while her other hand grabbed at a part of the post. A part that she began moving up and down, up and down, up and down. Knives watched in confusion for a moment, unable to understand why she was doing that. Then suddenly water began to pour out of the post, into the bucket.  
  
Knives watched as Ophelia struggled to bring water up from the ground with what must be a "pump". So much effort for so little reward. After a few minutes she stopped, the bucket about two thirds full, and she carried it back towards the shack, doing her best not to spill any, and failing.  
  
When she finally reached the house, Knives expected her to take the long-awaited and hard-earned drink. But she didn't. Ophelia didn't even take a break. She walked through the kitchen, into the room Knives was staying in, and into another room. A room full of light and moisture. A room full of flowers.  
  
The girl took the bucket and slowly began walking through the rows of plants, and pouring the water on them. Every last drop was given to the flora without a bit of it relieving the thirst he knew she must be feeling.  
  
"Why did you do that?" he asked. She looked up at him, questioningly.  
  
"Why did you work so hard, just to give water to these plants?"  
  
She smiled at him, as if saying that was a silly question to ask. She reached over to the nearest plant, a rose, running her fingers lightly over the petals. Then, without looking back at Knives, she left the room and took the bucket back outside to get some more water.  
  
He stood there, in the plant room, as she went back and forth, bringing water to the plants, and always never took even a trickle for herself. She refilled his glass, but never took a drink of her own. All Knives could do was stand there, unable to understand the silent answers to his questions.  
  
(A/N I'm just going to warn you people, I'm seriously considering changing the title of this fic. "Flower Child" seemed good at the beginning, but now I'm not so sure. If you guys think it should stay the same, please let me know. But don't be surprised if the story seems to "disappear", it will have just switched titles.  
  
And now, a word to my two reviewers (yeah reviews!!!!)  
  
ShinyFairyLights  
  
Knives is one of my favourite characters too (obviously). I just find him fascinating. Though, I love Vash too, but how can you not, really. It's VASH!  
  
Angie Gastelum  
  
Well, I have continued now. I hope to hear more from you!) 


	4. Balance

**Balance**

            Another day of monotony was drawing to a close.  Knives sat on the couch he had almost come to view as his own, after spending the majority of the last month either lying on it, or sitting on it, or basically being in the general vicinity.

            His wounds were as healed as one would expect.  They left his body marred with scars, just as Vash's was, only not to that extent.  There was no Legato here to tend to his healing, only the girl.  

            Yes, the girl.  Ophelia continued to perplex him.  Everything she did was a mystery, the least of which was how she slaved away just to provide water for her little garden.  There were so many questions surrounding her: why Vash choose to leave Knives in her car, why she lived in the desolate place, and the greatest mystery of all, why did she choose not to speak?  Something told him that the final answers from Ophelia would not be revealed to him for a very long time.  

            He could hear her, bustling about in the kitchen.  But only barely.  She seemed to have an aura of silence around her, absorbing all noise.  

Thus the sound the suddenly ripped through the quiet made him jump with surprise.  Before he could even think about acting, he was already standing and hurrying to find the source of this disturbance.  

He found it in the kitchen.  Ophelia was sitting on the floor, a broken stool at her feet.  She was staring at the piece of furniture with annoyance, then looking up to the top shelf, where a large pot was sitting.  Then her golden eyes moved to behold Knives, watching to see what he would do.

Leaning down, he picked up the stool.  The wood fell apart in his hands.

"Termites," he said, throwing the wood away in disgust.  Then he looked up towards the pot.  It was out of the girl's reach, but not his.  His hands flew up with ease and brought it down.  Then he reached down and helped Ophelia to her feet.  Her watchful expression had turned into a beaming smile as she accepted the cooking vessel from him.  

This done, Knives left her and returned to his couch.  It was then that he realized how strange his reaction had been.  Without thinking about it, he had just helped her.  A human.  

For the next few days, he didn't move any more than was necessary.  A stretch here, a readjusting there, nothing more.  Ophelia left him alone, except for bringing the constant supply of water.  She seemed to know that he was sorting through the events of that night in the kitchen in his head.

Days passed, then one whole week.  Still the confusion remained.  Knives could not understand why he had helped her, what would cause him to act in such a way.  

Then one morning a butterfly flew past his face.  The fluttering of tiny wings filled his ears while its shadow danced upon his face.  And he decided to follow it, taking a break from boredom and uncertainty to go on a trip to places unknown.  The little creature drifted throughout the tiny hovel, leaving almost no place untouched.  Finally it settled to land in the flower room.  But instead it found itself captured within the trap set by one of the room's residents.  Knives watched as the hungry spider began to inch towards the trapped and struggling creature.  He remembered a moment long ago, a time with Vash and Rem, where a similar situation had occurred.  His response then was the same as his response now: he hand reached out, preparing to crush the predator to save the prey.  

But this time he was stopped.  A small hand reached up to cover his and pull it back.  He turned and found himself staring into golden eyes, eyes that all but ordered him to stop.  He turned back towards the web, wondering why Ophelia would wish death for the butterfly.  As his head turned though, a small shape flickered past.  The butterfly flew off, landing on the nearby rose.  It was safe and sound now, having freed itself from the deathtrap.  

Again he turned to Ophelia, and found her smiling.  

"Things could have easily gone the other way, you know.  The spider could very easily have gotten its meal because you stopped me."

The girl sighed, then raised her hands palm up.  She moved them up and down, then finally held them level with each other, eyes trying to transmit her message to Knives.  He watched in confusion, then suddenly he understood.

"Balance.  That's what you're trying to tell me, balance.  There is a balance."

She smiled again then walked off to tend to her plants, leaving the other plant considering this new perspective on life.


	5. Reflection and Protection

**Reflection and Protection**

The moons shone brightly in the sky.  Silence and slumber hung heavy in the air.  Despite this, Knives still found sleep impossible, for his mind was far too active for rest.

            Balance.  That was what Ophelia had told him.  But he didn't understand.  What did she mean?  What was the balance?  Who did it affect?  And**,** most importantly, what did it mean to him?

            He rose from the couch, deciding a glass of water was needed to calm his head.  He went outside to fetchsome from the well.  Once outside though**,** his eyes drifted to one of the cleaner windows, through which he could faintly see the girl's sleeping form.  If he was confused over her message, he was completely mystified by Ophelia herself.  And his odd emotions towards her.

            He wanted to help her.  This he could easily recognize.  He had never felt that way towards any human.  For so long, he had seen the entire race as nothing more than bugs due for extermination.  In fact, the only other beings he had ever seen as worthy of life were Vash and Rem. 

            Rem.  He hadn't thought about her in years, until his brother brought the subject back into the light.  At one point he had thought of her as their mother, or the closest thing they had.  But he supposed every child grew up to resent their parent in some degree.  He just took it to the next level.  Eventually**,** he had grown to despise her, despise how she thought she had all the answers.  He especially despised how Vash gobbled up every word she said as being the absolute truth. 

            He despised the favouritism Rem had shown his brother, how she was always there for Vash but never there for him when he needed her the most.

            But Ophelia was different.  Unlike other humans, she worked for her survival, rather than using the technology of his brethren.  Instead of leeching off plants, she toiled to keep a small paradise alive.  But most importantly, she was there to take care of_ him_.  And no matter what her own beliefs were, she let him make up his own mind. She showed him what she felt, using actions rather than words.  He may not always understand, but he was open to her message.

            Not so long ago, he had been ready to destroy the entire human race.  Now, he wasn't so sure.

            Ophelia stirred in her bed, rolling over so that she no longer faced the window.  Knives walked away from where he stood, moving  inside to drink the water, and continue contemplating balance.

            Days passed.  Questions came and went unanswered.  This life, which now seemed so normal to Knives, went on.

            He was inside tending to the greenhouse when an odd noise reached his ears.  Loud, male voices and the sounds of a struggle.  And the distinctive clamour of weapons being readied.

            Knives hurried outside, fighting instincts tuned as he searched for his enemies.  He quickly found them, in the form of five human brutes who had surrounded Ophelia.  He could hear the jeering words now, and see how they grabbed and pushed her.  Throughout it all, she kept silent, which only encouraged her assaulters.  Despite being unarmed, Knives ran headfirst into the fray.

            His presence went unnoticed for a few moments, the distraction of Ophelia allowing him to close the distance.  Soon though one of them, the leader apparently, began shouting orders to shoot.  Bullets flew through the air, but Knives moved out of their path.  The shots kept flying, and every one missed him.  And soon three shooters lay stunned on the ground.

            A fourth man was now grasping Ophelia's wrists, twisting them to force her to the ground.  But she was not as helpless as she appeared, and a well-aimed kick brought him down with her.  And then Knives arrived, grabbing the human with his left arm and lifting him up off the ground, preparing to fling the trash away.

            Suddenly**,** pain shot through his body.  His flesh was torn as the wound on Knives' arm, the one made by a pair of Vash's bullets, reopened.  He dropped the man, crying out at the feeling which was still rather foreign to him.  In all his of life, Knives had only experienced pain a minute number of times, all at the hands of his brother.

            As he clutched at the injury, an explosion filled his ears.  And the pain was magnifiedas another bullet entered his body.  This time cutting into his chest.

            He fell to the ground in shock from the sensation.  The shadow of the laughing, gloating leader loomed over him.  His words and form were a blur as Knives' senses screamed.

            Then a new form appeared, this one full of light.  It reached up to the shadow, touching it, at the same time as he felt a slight weight come to rest on Knives'body.  Then there was a rush of energy as he felt the pain replaced by pure life.

            Suddenly, it was over, and perception returned in time for him to see the leader fall lifelessly to the ground.  To see the other men run away in terror.To see Ophelia take her hand off his chest, and throw herself over the dead body, silently weeping.

            Knives didn't understand it, but somehow, he knew that Ophelia had healed him.  And, by doing so, had drained the life from the human.  Still slightly dazed, he stood up, testing his arm and finding the wound once again closed. 

            He looked down at Ophelia, to whereshe still lay crying.  "Why are you sad?  This man tried to hurt you, he was a despicable example of human greed.  He doesn't deserve your tears."

            Ophelia looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot, and suddenly Knives clearly heard a phrase from his past.

            _No one ever has the right to take the life of another._

They were Rem's words, only said by a different voice.  And spoken without a sound being made.


	6. Memory

**Memory**

It was quiet. So very quiet. All life in the small house outside of July was frozen in sorrow. The only sounds were two set of footsteps, louder ones regularly moving about while the softer ones would remain silent for many hours. Knives was now the one caring for the plants and the home running, at least to some capacity.

He limited contact between himself and Ophelia. He knew that his presence was a constant reminder of her pain. He avoided her for other reasons too, for whenever he saw her, in his mind he heard those words again, spoken in that strange voice. He knew that voice was hers.

Days passed in this stillness, as no one was willing to break it. Until the arrival of a red silhouette on the horizon, as Vash the Stampede returned once again to the broken city.

He found Ophelia as she sat alone in the dust covered yard, where the bloodstains had finally blown away. Knives stood inside the house, watching. Even the grime of the windowcould not conceal the girl's joy as she greeted his brother. It could not conceal the smile that returned to Ophelia's face, like rain after drought. And though Knives was pleased to see it, he wished that he had been the cause.

They wandered around for hours, Vash talking while the girl listened. Knives tried to continue with the work that had somehow become his, but they were impossible to ignore. He was drawn to watch them. Thushe witnessed Ophelia suddenly stopping, while at the same time his own body seemed to freeze. His eyes were filled with the image of Vash turning to her. Of him looking back in concern. Of her, nodding consent to whatever he had just said. Then she turned and fled back towards the safety of the house, passing Knives without notice.

The men stood in silence, watching each other, before Vash finally walked over. "It's been a while."

Knives smirked. "Not long enough."

"Now," Vash said with a laugh, "is that any wayto treat your brother?"

"You shot me. Again. Five times."

"If I hadn't, you would have shot me."

Silence reigned once again. Knives began to walk away but Vash refusing to leave his side.

"So, was it worth it?" Vash asked after a few minutes had passed. "Being shot, that is. I was hoping that staying with Ophelia might open your eyes to the good in humanity."

Knives glared, but even as he did the truth of Vash's words echoed in his head. While he still believed most humans to be horrible scum, he could now accept that there were exceptions.

"Perhaps," he muttered, unwilling to admit any more than that.

Vash glanced furtively over at his brother. "You don't know who she is, do you?"

"What?"

"You don't know who Ophelia is. Her past and the connections in it."

"Well, of course not. How could I? She can't talk."

"Oh, she can talk. At least, I think she can. She just chooses not to."

Knives glared at Vash again. "And how exactly do you know this?"

Vash laughed. "I guess I'm just a little more perceptive than you are when it comes to humans. And I asked her."

Knives looked away, annoyed by this logic. He was supposed to be the rational one, while Vash was the emotional dreamer. Yet his brother seemed to know Ophelia better than he did, seemed to understand that which Knives could only guess at. He wanted to know, to voice the unspoken question. But at the same time he could feel the answer looming in the future and knew he wasn't going to like it.

But in the end, he had to ask. "So…who is she?"

Vash looked at him solemnly. "Her name is Ophelia Bluesummers."

* * *

The sunlight was beginning to fade as evening approached, covering Knives' solitary figure in darkness. He stood alone with his thoughts, as he had done numerous times in his life. It was this life which he now was recalling, matching memories with what Vash had just told him.

Ophelia was the sister of Legato. They had once lived together, in this house, just outside the city of July. When it had been a place of life and laughter rather than ruins and dust. It had been their home. They had all lived here, all his followers. The Gunho Guns.The explosion that failed to take their lives changed them irrevocably; leaving them not completely human yet not completely plant. Hybrids. And thus he had considered them worthy servants, though no more than that. He bound them to him and they died for him.

He never regretted that loss of life. Their final actions helped bring about his plans. And even if they were above the level of the average human they had still been mere pawns in comparison to himself. Or so he had thought.

But she had almost been one of them. Ophelia could have been just as easily thrown away in his service. The thought of it sucked all warmth from his body. All of Vash's hopes in leaving him here had come true.

Knives knew it was time to leave.


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Beams of light danced over Ophelia's features, theirsudden arrival rousing her from slumber. Her golden eyes opened hesitantly, then shut tightly against the bright glow. Taking in a deep breath, she pushed herself upright, the worn sheet falling away from her cotton-clad body while her eyes blinked, adjusting to the light. Her gazeturned towards the window which the sun was streaming through. And saw Knives.

He was only there for a moment, not seeming to even notice that she was awake. Ophelia shifted off the bed, slipping her feet into shoes and heading out of the room to see what was going on.

Knives was nowhere to be seen but Vash was there on the back porch, nailing a fourth leg onto the old table which before now had needed to rest against the wall to achieve even the most rickety of balances. Now it would stand on its own, as would the two accompanying chairs. Ophelia turned to look at her house and saw that the windows now gleamed, with no sign of their former filth. She smiled, surprised by how much it suddenly mattered to her that this old shack look vaguely decent. She hadn't realized she cared.

The two men were busy for the rest of the day, repairing all the essential parts of her home. When they finished it looked quite capable of supporting a life of comfort, though one with few luxuries.

Ophelia stood outside with the brothers, admiring her newly improved residence. Vash shuffled slightly and she turned to look at him.

"Well, it's about time I headed back. There's someone who won't appreciate me staying away too long. Especially because of…well, with what happened before.I don't think she really likes you much, Knives. Not that I really blame her for that."

Attention turned to Knives now but he refused to comment, leaving them all standing in silence once again.

"So," Vash began, "we had…"

"I'm not going with you."

"What?"

"I'm going alone. I need to see the world on my own for awhile, to see it for myself and draw my own conclusions. I know what both of you think…and I need to decide for myself if it's true or not."

For a moment, Vash appeared ready to argue, but the urge to do so quickly faded. He nodded to both his companions, then headed out, traveling into the east.

Knives went in the opposite direction.

Ophelia stood alone now, watching them walk away. She smiled, pleased that she had been able to reach Knives eventually. It had taken time and patience, but her message had finally gotten through.

She didn't know if she was right, if her concept of balance would provide Knives with the truth he sought. But she did know one thing it contained: hope. Hope that, in this world that had so much evil in it, goodness still did exist. That for all the misery, there was still joy. All the world's pain and all the world's pleasure, weighed against each other, came out equal.

She turned to face the setting sun, lips moving, forming words for the first time in countless years.

"Goodbye Knives."

* * *

(A/N: Well, there, it's finally finished. I'm really sorry that it took so long, but university life rather ate my spare time. I do hope to have my other projects worked on more diligently in the future.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed this story, it's been great hearing what you think. Also, special thanks to Yubs for getting my beta-ing done (even if you aren't always the fastest person around))


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